This is a story of casual, unprotected sex, and is a work of fiction. In real life, use a condom, damnit! Unwanted babies, HIV and all sorts of lesser sexual diseases await the idiot who "dips his wick" or "rides the rod" with impunity and without protection.
It began about a year ago. Dina, one of the secretaries, kept giving me strange looks at work (I'm a computer tech named Devon, by the way... I work for a medium-size corporation). After a week or so of this she caught my eye and beckoned me to follow her into an unused storage closet. I closed the door and she was all over me, kissing and groping.
I couldn't believe it -- a married woman! I didn't think about it for more than a moment, though, as I returned her passionate embrace. She was beautiful, a little short but curvaceous, with dark auburn hair that framed the light brown skin of her face. I think she had some Spanish in her, or maybe Greek. I never asked, and her married surname (Jones) wasn't any help.
Her hands went down my back to my butt, kneading, as we kissed. Mine went to unbutton her blouse, revealing her fabulous, round bra-clad boobs. I fondled them greedily.
She moved her hands to my belt and unbuckled it, then pulled down my zipper. All right! She wanted to get straight to it!
Her hand snaked down into my underwear and I gasped -- so warm! I grabbed as much of the front of her knee-length skirt as I could and pulled up, then maneuvered my pelvis closer to hers.
"No..." she demurred, pushing me back. What the fuck? She couldn't see my face in the dim light from the small grimy window, but she knew I was confused. "Please... just this... at first." She put her hand back on my crotch and massaged me back to hardness. I closed my eyes. Well, this was better than nothing.
The masturbation increased speed over the next few minutes. I could hear her breathing matching tempo with mine. Was she frigging herself with her other hand?
I got my answer a minute later as her thrilling digits pushed me over the edge. I gasped as I splashed the inside of my underwear and all over her hand. "Umm! Ahh!" she exulted, tremors going all through her body as she came in response to my pleasure. "Mmm! Uhh! Oh!" She collapsed a little into me as she lost some of her strength, pulling back as she recovered.
Giving me a peck on the cheek, she hurried out of the closet. I spent the next few minutes in the washroom cleaning up the mess in my shorts before it looked like I had an "accident".
The next day she again enticed me into the storage closet, and again she undid my pants and masturbated me within my shorts. I kissed her passionately, trying once more to get my pelvis closer to hers. I wanted sex!
She pushed me back again. "No, please... can we not just stay with this?" She lightly squeezed my dick through the protective cotton, eliciting a pleasurable groan from me. I backed off, and she again manipulated me to a wet orgasm within the confines of my jockeys, bringing herself off in a chain reaction.
As I cleaned myself in the washroom I thought to myself, why would she not let me fuck her? Was this some sort of guilt thing about her marriage? Masturbating someone wasn't considered adultery? I shook my head.
I looked for her in "our spot" the next few days, but she never showed. The office was large enough that you might not see someone from another department on any given day or week unless you had business in their area, and there were no outstanding tech issues in the secretarial pool. The weekend passed quickly, and she was nowhere to be found the next week as well. I wondered if maybe her guilt overcame her lust, or if she thought I might try to force her into intercourse.
Finally, another two weeks passed and I saw her tentatively poking her head around the corner into the tech area. She caught my eye and disappeared. I followed after a minute and furtively entered the closet. She again glommed on to me, kissing, groping.
.... There is more of this story ...